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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29512383">Highlight Of Your Day</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellamurphyy/pseuds/ellamurphyy'>ellamurphyy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:53:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,909</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29512383</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellamurphyy/pseuds/ellamurphyy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A short story post-war. </p>
<p>Hermione is running out of options and has decided that maybe a help group set up by the Ministry will be beneficial. Coincidentally, somebody else has the exact same thought.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Highlight Of Your Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They told her that one day it would get better.</p>
<p>That squeals of laughter would stop sounding like screams of pain, or that a paper cut would no longer distort into a missing limb in her mind.</p>
<p>That one day everything would stop feeling so grey. The heavy puddle of grief at the base of her skull, would slowly wither away until she would be able to think without being interrupted by the echoes of lives lost. The promise that one day she would be able to live and not feel the need to apologise to the people that no longer did. </p>
<p>It had been 3 years that countless people had told her this and she was still waiting for the day that she could believe them. She had no reason to because every word spewed our of their mouths seemed empty and meaningless. Everything did.</p>
<p>They may have won but that didn't mean she had the right to celebrate. How was she supposed to move on from events that seem to be dragging her back- forcing her to stay in that tent, or in the courtyard staring at her best friends lifeless body. She was always in that courtyard, couldn't get out, it was like her feet had been stuck to the cement and all she could do was gape at her surroundings. The place that she felt was her home was now a graveyard. People she had been able to call her friends were now strangers. Even her own parents felt like ghosts from her life before.</p>
<p>She tried as hard as possible to keep to herself these days. Of course she had to make sporadic visits to The Burrow to ensure everybody else that she hadn't gone completely mental, but she never found any joy from it. Even her job at the ministry in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures seemed lifeless. </p>
<p>She was sure co-workers and friends has detected a change in her. That the once feisty loud girl who would fight for what she believed in, had become a shadow of herself. When people would propose conversations that would usually excite her or at least get her to engage only resulted in one word answers and the insistence that "she was fine" and "just tired". </p>
<p>She would attend after work drinks with her colleague from her own and other departments and feel like she was trapped in a bubble. Everybody else would seem to stand out in technicolour whilst they conversed and joked with each other whilst she felt that even the action of her greeting somebody would steal all her energy. So instead she'd sit on the outside of conversations and laugh when necessary and offer any input she thought she could manage- which really wasn't a lot.</p>
<p>The desire to stay in bed wrapped in her duvet and cuddled up next to Crookshanks seemed to increase by the day. But Hermione was nothing if not head strong and was determined to not let it overcome her. She may feel like a deadweight on the inside but she had appearances to uphold and did that to the best of her ability. </p>
<p>However she was slowly running out of options on how to keep herself living. She had tried pretty much everything; throwing herself into her work, faking her happiness with the promise that it may become real, doing everything she used to do before the war. But none of it worked. She still felt like a living corpse. A ghost. </p>
<p>When Ginny mentioned a help group for people suffering from the trauma of the war held at the Ministry, Hermione wanted to laugh in her face. There was no way that she could sit in a circle of people she possibly worked with and spew all her secrets about how her life seemed like a chore and that she felt useless. She couldn't even speak to her best friends about how she was feeling let alone almost strangers that were likely to gossip. </p>
<p>However Ginny continued to explain that the group was highly anonymous, everyone in attendance would disillusion themselves however they saw fit in order to keep their identities hidden from each other. Nobody would be able to tell who the others were and that you had to sign a contract upon joining that explained that even if you did recognise the identity of one of the disfigured people that you were not aloud to disclose that information to anybody else. Hermione thought that it was almost ridiculous.</p>
<p>Almost.</p>
<p>Because she really was running out of options and maybe the opportunity to spill some of her feelings to a room of people may lift some of the heavy weight that she carried around with her. She told Ginny that she would consider attending but made no promises that if she did attend that she would even speak. It was enough for Ginny to quiet down with her questions and leave Hermione to her own devices for the rest of the day. </p>
<p>                                                                                    -------------------------------------------------</p>
<p>A week later Hermione found herself standing in front of her mirror trying to think of how she would be able to transform herself to look less like herself. She used a spell to make her hair a dirty blond, lengthened her nose, and changed her eyes to a emerald green shade. She debated transfiguring some glasses but the decided against as it as she would probably end up looking like the love child of Harry and Luna. </p>
<p>Convinced that her disguise was convincing enough she stepped out of her house, past the wards and apparated to the secluded building that Ginny had told her was where programs like this took place. </p>
<p>Her blood was humming and she was struggling to keep her hands from shaking as she took slow steps up the front stairs, through the door and towards a front desk. The last thing she expected was a house elf to pop up behind the counter and hand her a piece of paper and quill. </p>
<p>"Mippin is to give Miss a contract to sign", the house elf stated. Hermione concluded the she must have been somewhat older than Dobby but didn't seem as withered as Kreature ever did. </p>
<p>"Um... thank you Mippin", Hermione took the contract from the elf and leaned down on the desk to fill in the gaps, all stating the privacy and secrecy that must be upheld through these meeting and afterwards no matter how many you attended or what you contributed. Whilst she was writing Hermione looked up to see Mippin still standing there with a smile on her face and Hermione found herself being unable to resist the question that came out "Mippin, who is your master ?"</p>
<p>Mippins face grew weary and confused and replied with "Sorry Miss, Mippin is unable to tell Miss that".</p>
<p>Hermione wasn't surprised as she figured it was part of the animosity and therefore replied with a smile and finished up with the contract and handed it back to Mippin. After receiving the paper Mippin came from around the desk and started plodding down a long corridor to the left of them and Hermione deduced that she was supposed to follow her. </p>
<p>As they walked the subtle anxious feelings from before escalated; she could imagine them as water in a bucket that was growing and growing and one slip and they would come spilling over the edge. </p>
<p>just dont let it slip hermione</p>
<p>She was so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't realise she was now standing outside a door that was placed at the end of the corridor and Mippin had disappeared from beside her. It didn't take an expert to guess that this was the room that the meeting was taking place, so she raised a shaky a pushed open the door.</p>
<p>She only let her gaze set forward for a long enough time to see the circle of chairs in the middle of the brightly lit room, most of them filled by people she didn't recognize before diverting her eyes to the floor and making her way over to a chair that was empty.  It was the most muggle thing she had ever seen. It may as well have been an AA meeting she walked into. She felt the gaze of people burning into her but just let the chatter of other peoples conversations consume her so she didn't have to focus on how warm her body had become or how her leg was consistently bouncing up and down no matter how hard she tried to stop it. </p>
<p>It was a long two minutes of her staring anywhere but at the people surrounding her until a man piped up that she assumed was the leader and introduced the group. He was a tall middle aged man that she was sure must have been in a high position at the Ministry but obviously didn't recognise him as he had given himself an effective disguise. </p>
<p>His loud voice explained the basis of these meetings and how they would be set up and Hermione listened intently, keeping her gaze fixed on the man talking. It felt as if she were back in a classroom listening to a professor give lectures on potions or charms. </p>
<p>But she wasn't a child anymore, those peaceful days in classes had been and gone. She was an adult with responsibilities and her own life. She had to move on.</p>
<p>By the end of his speech he had suggested that the group go round and explain why they had come to these meetings and what they were hoping to get out of them by the end. The women on his left was the first to speak and Hermione thought she may have been able to recognise her if she thought hard enough but didn't feel that the investigation was necessary. She explained that she had been having flashbacks from a certain incident that happened during the Battle of Hogwarts and was hoping that by talking it out that they may decrease or stop happening altogether. </p>
<p>There was a chorus of hums and nods whilst she spoke and Hermione found herself feeling trapped in a bubble again, even these people that didn't know each other were able to connect through sympathy. A feeling that she severely lacked. Trying to diminish the isolated feeling coursing through her veins she continued to listen as people around the circle explained similar feelings of loneliness and depression mainly caused by the war. The people speaking were once again slightly familiar but not enough that she could put a name to their faces or be able to confront them if she ever saw them at work. </p>
<p>Overall she thought that the setup of these meeting were intelligent and could be helpful to wizards and witches if they were to contribute enough. </p>
<p>Her train of thought was halted still as the man opposite her was asked to speak and she couldn't quite believe who he was. He may have spelled his hair into a dark brown shade and put on a pair of glasses but she was sure she would recognise those sharp contours and aristocratic stance anywhere. His skin was the same pale shade it had been the last time she saw him and any softness on his face from school had completely diminished to leave behind a strong jawline and high cheekbones. </p>
<p>Draco Fucking Malfoy.</p>
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